Of French Forests and Snowstorms
by IggyLuv333
Summary: Oh Valentines day, you bloody git. Who wants to spend there's hiking through France freezing to death from the snow and utterly lost? Certainly not America or England. Yet, there they were. Though it's a funny thing how cold weather pulls people together


_'Since when did France start having affairs with General Winter?'_

Those were the words that rung through England's head as he trudged through the February snow. Those words didn't even make much sense for France. February. Snow.

Supposedly snow was rare in France and this had been a freak snowstorm. England more or less thought that France had somehow willed the snow to fall, just to piss England off. It certainly wasn't below him.

After all, it wasn't snowing in England.

On second thought, maybe it was. Yes, in Dover it probably was.

In fact, it was normal for it to snow on mountains. England was most likely overreacting. Then again, maybe not. No, of course not. Definitely not! France was wrong, and the Briton was right, that's just how things are, not matter what!

That's what he told himself, anyways.

Now, why was the green eyed man bitching about snow? For the horrendous matter of that he was trying to climb through it. You see, it was the day before Valentines day, and the (self-proclaimed) nation of love was throwing a party for it.

Now why in the good Lord's name would England possibly wish to attend that?

Simply because he had no other choice. If he didn't, chances were France would _never_ shut up about it, and as much as he enjoyed pissing the Frenchman off, France would probably force England to have his own "special" Valentines day party with himself, one England would most certainly not enjoy.

As to why the Brit was trying to pull himself through the snow, you see to England's dismay, the Parisian airport was closed. As if to spite the man, _Charles de Gaulle_ had been snowed in so badly, it had canceled all flights. _Aéroport de Rouen _had been the closest he could fly, and he'd been forced to walk the rest of the way. Oh, how he'd have loved to take a cab, but unfortunately the roads had been snowed in so badly he had to walk.

And as if it weren't bad enough, his own personal tormenter had been stuck with him. Yes, _America..._America had been visiting England so they could fly over to France together, but when news hit that the flight had been canceled straight to Paris and they had to take an indirect route, instead of just letting England go home, America forced the other blonde to take the flight with him so they could get to Paris on time. Really, England wasn't sure if the American was just over-determined or stupid, but he decided to choose the latter of the two.

Damn America for dragging him to Rouen, damn America for forcing them to walk to Paris instead of just fly back to London and let them enjoy Valentines day by themselves, damn him for letting it snow, damn him for getting them lost, damn him for making them late (as they were supposed to have been there on the 11th, and now it was the 13th),damn him for eating up all their food, damn him for spending all the money, damn him for it being cold, damn him for their being no cell phone reception, damn him for EVERYTHING that had gone wrong on this stupid bloody trip whether it was his fault or not! Damn him for EVERYTHING that went wrong in England's life, even if it didn't concern him or happened before he was born! Just damn him straight to hell!

England would have liked to have delivered that little rant to the American pushing through the snow next to him, but frankly the last thing they needed was another argument.

They had argued at England's house, on the plane, off the plane, at the airport, while they walked, while they went to sleep, and about 35 seconds ago. It amazed the Brit how the American seemed in high spirits in admits of all the arguing. And cold, let's not forget cold.

So as England internally cursed the American for everything he could possibly think of, America simply cleared snow from their (non-existent) path and kept on walking.

They had started out in the city, in sheltered safety, where if they felt like stopping they could and if they got hungry they could eat. But when America insisted he knew a shorter way to get to France's house, and that if they cut through some of the wilderness they'd be in Paris faster, and would probably be at France's house before Valentine's day.

Though England didn't trust the American's sense of direction very much, he had decided to play along, figuring they couldn't venture too far away from the city before America gave up and realized he didn't know the way.

Oh how England had been mistaken. Due to the American's own stubbornness and complete lack of geographical knowledge, not to mention England's own moment of over-trusting stupidity, they were now thoroughly and completely lost.

And it was snowing.

Cold.

And getting dark.

Oh joy...

* * *

"We're almost there! I can practically feel it!" The blue eyed blonde insisted, continuing to push through snowy brush.

England sighed, following suit. "You said that two hours ago. And 15 minutes ago. Admit it America, we're no closer to France's house than we were before. We're _lost._"

America frowned, shaking his head in disagreement. "Nu uh! We'll totally be there before you know it, and then you'll be all like 'Oh America! I'm sorry I ever doubted you, you're much cooler and heroic than I am!'"

England simply rolled his eyes, muttering "Not EVEN in your dreams, America.." and continued walking on.

They went on like that for the next two hours, before both parties finally realized it was dark, freezing, and that they were in fact, quite lost.

England was shivering. Though he was wearing a heavy coat, gloves, and a scarf, it felt as if he were running through the snow naked. It had to be AT LEAST 50 below zero (Celsius), it just had to be!

Finally giving up, the Briton collapsed to the ground, settling under a tree.

"It's hopeless America, we're never going to make it in time. No one even knows we got lost. We'll be lucky if we get out of here with our lives, let alone to France's house."

America rolled his eyes, settling himself next to England. "Over-dramatic much?"

England sighed. "Not really. It's freezing cold. Ever heard of hypothermia?" he said, sarcastically.

America looked like he considered this for a moment, before shrugging it off. There were more important things to worry about. Like how it had been at least 6 hours since he'd had a burger, and the fact that they were lost in a dark forest, which was the perfect place for monsters to come out.

In fact, upon second thought, the monsters thing was really scary! Looking around, America could have sworn he heard something rustle in a bush, probably something evil that wanted to kill him!

Starting to shiver himself (more out of fear than cold) he scooted closer to England, clutching onto the others arm.

"Ne England..." He whispered, to which England turned to face him, looking rather confused.

"What?" He asked, wondering if America had finally grasped the severity of the situation.

"Do you think there are monsters in this forest..?"

England could have face-palmed right there had America not been holding onto his limb. About to deny it right then and there, England paused for a moment, deciding that he may as well have a bit of fun scaring the lad.

He nodded, to which America's eyes widened. "Haven't you heard?" he asked, America shaking his head back and forth.

"H-Heard what?"

"This is a _haunted_ forest, America! They say every soul who gets lost here _dies_ the next day, and had to spend eternity in...HELL!"

America's blue eyes looked as if they were about to jump off his face, and he let out a small squeak.

"That's why I didn't want to go in America.." England said with a (fake) sigh. "I knew this would happen. Now look what you've done..."

America let out a whimper, lower lip trembling. "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME IT WAS HAUNTED?" He accused, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears.

England snickered a bit, still playing up the 'oh-so-sad' look he had put on his face. "I tried, but you just wouldn't listen. What is to become of us now, America?"

America's eyes started watering, and he clutched onto England's arm as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. England blushed a bit at the close contact, and for once he was glad he was blushing. It made his cheeks feel warm.

"Jeez, you're really gullible.." England muttered. America looked at him, wide eyes confused.

"What do you mean?"

England rolled his eyes. "I was just kidding about the haunted thing. I didn't think you were _that_ stupid as to believe me."

America gasped, offended. "YOU MEAN YOU WERE LYING?"

England just glanced at America, as if he were the stupidest thing the Brit had ever laid eyes upon.

"Obviously, oh smart one."

America glared back at the Brit, folding his arms over his chest, huffing. "Not cool man, I thought we were really in trouble there for a minute!"

England returned the glare, yelling back, "WE ARE IN TROUBLE! WE'RE LOST IN A BLOODY FOREST!"

America shrugged, seeming unaffected by that and more worried about the offset that the forest really _was_ haunted and England just didn't know yet.

England sighed, for the millionth time that day, burying his face in scarf, and watching the soft flakes of snow fall. Really, it had been snowing for hours now. There was snow all over England's head.

Thinking about that, he brushed some of the partially melted flakes off of his rather messy, blonde hair.

Sitting there in silence, America once again scooted closer to England. England blushed, wanting to push the American away, but at the same time, wanting to hold him close. (Just for warmth though, he insisted to himself.)

"Do you think France will find us..?" America whispered, voice lower and quieter than usual, eyes with a rather unreadable expression.

England shrugged a bit, replying just as quietly with, "I really hope so..."

America nodded, and, a bit awkwardly, pulled England to sit on his lap.

England tensed, slight blush already present on his cheeks growing deeper, but slowly relaxed into the warmth that was America. Wanting to question the blonde of his actions, but also not wanting him to let go, England merely stayed silent, and allowed himself to cuddle into America's chest.

And thus, they fell asleep in that (rather compromising) position.

* * *

And the next day they awoke to sound of worried voices, and police sirens.

America blinked his eyes opened, which were still very much blurred from sleep. Wait a second, when had he fallen asleep exactly..? And where _was _he..? This place sure didn't look like his room!

As the previous days memories flooded his drowsy mind, it didn't take long for the American's mind to register that he'd fallen asleep in a (possibly haunted) forest with England in his lap. He blushed a bit, wondering what came over him the previous day to compel him to hold England in such a way.

Probably the cold, he decided. After all, as coldhearted as the Brit may be, he was quite the ball of warmth on America's lap. Yes, that was most definitely it, and not some weird complicated reason. Man he wanted a burger...

Wait a second, why were there sirens and voices!

As America became FULLY awake he noticed that in fact, there seemed to be an ambulance crew that had somehow managed to get through the heavy snow, and a rather worried looking France talking to some of the people!

Yay! They had been found!

America proceeded to try and get up, then realizing England was still asleep on his lap.

England stirred a bit, but soon drifted back to sleep, clinging on tighter to America's chest. America blushed a bit, a shook England gently, trying to make him wake up.

"Five more minutes..." England murmured softly, words which caught the attention of the Frenchman and ambulance team.

France sighed, looking relieved.

"Dieu merci...Angleterre wasn't waking up. I was worried he'd frozen.." France said, to which America frowned.

"What time is it..?" America asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Half past twelve, la Saint-Valentin." France said with a frown. "Where the hell were you two?"

America sweat-dropped. "Got lost.." He murmured.

France rolled his eyes, muttering, "C'est évident..." Then saying some more French words to the ambulance team, who nodded, and drove the ambulance away. At that point America realized something crucial.

The roads were no longer closed.

And they were right near one.

Feeling like a complete fool, America sighed, wondering how he hadn't taken notice of that earlier. He'd supposed it had been because it was covered in snow earlier and he hadn't been able to see it. And it was England's fault for giving up at that tree and not pushing forward a bit!

Feeling rather proud he could blame this all on England, he finally succeeded in waking the said British gentleman up from his previous restful state.

"What the fuck is it, America..?" England muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"I see you're as pleasant as always, Angleterre," France chuckled to himself.

England glared. "Why are YOU here frog?" Then realization struck the Briton. "Wait, why ARE you here frog? Does that mean we're saved?" he asked, the surprise no secret in his voice.

France smiled, his normal lusty smile at England. "You could say that, mon cher~"

England went back to glaring at the Frenchman, only to be joined by the American who was less than pleased (however used to) the little exchange the two were having.

Suddenly England noticed the fact he was still very much situated on America's lap, and blushed, rising from the cold ground.

America stood as well, legs practically numb, walking with a not-quite-right gait over to France.

As the three started to walk towards a car the Frenchman had waiting, it didn't take long for a fight to erupt between France and England, soon to be interjected into by America, turning the whole ordeal into a little fiasco.

As...usual, one could suppose.

* * *

**A/N: A rather short little oneshot for the USUK communities Sweethearts Week. Today's theme was nature~ **

**It doesn't have much a plot, it was just sort of written to be cute. I hope I succeeded in at least that. :3**

**Etto...I don't own Hetalia.**

**3**


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